


Lessons in Healing

by Trish47



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ahch-To, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Banter, Bruises, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trish47/pseuds/Trish47
Summary: Rey wants nothing to do with Kylo’s lessons on Force Healing, but when she extends him her trust, she’s surprised to find what it awakens in both of them. A linked series of hurt/comfort moments set during and post-TLJ.Excerpt:He cleared his throat quietly to regain her attention. “You’re in pain.”Rey’s gaze met his, surprised to see the look of understanding that she found there. No trace of mockery reflected in his eyes, nor did she feel his remark judgmental, a criticism on her display of weakness. What she saw registered as something softer: concern, perhaps empathy.His unexpected expression threw her off-kilter. “Maybe you don’t recall from your training: mistakes hurt."





	1. Bruised

**Author's Note:**

> **Note: this takes place during TLJ, pre-hand touch. The other chapters will take place post-TLJ.  
> **   
>  **Thanks to sosanguine and phoenix for being my betas for this piece. Hugs to you both!**

Encounters with looters and other opportunistic scavengers on Jakku had trained Rey to sleep lightly and to keep her weapon close. Even after the most grueling days and meager meals, she had never permitted herself to truly rest, let alone to indulge in much dreaming.

Since coming to Ahch-To, that had changed. While her nights weren't completely peaceful, the island afforded her the safety of obscurity; she didn't have to worry about being hunted or ambushed among the Jedi Caretakers and their cantankerous charge. With her guard lowered, painful memories that had haunted her waking hours since childhood now manifested in colorful, dreadful nightmares.

Other visions multiplied in frequency and intensity too, ones which had surfaced after the bond with Kylo Ren had been unlocked within her mind. Those dreams troubled Rey most of all for the very fact that she wasn't scared or outraged by his presence. Instead - on more than one occasion - she'd extended an open invitation for him to join her.

Another rainstorm surged against the stone walls of her shelter as Rey huddled under a coarse woven curtain she'd repurposed as a blanket. She clutched at the threads of frayed slumber as the roaring surf and pelting rain alternatively lulled her into a familiar nightmare and jolted her awake to stoke the fire she'd built to fend off the chilled, damp air.

When the sounds of the storm cut away to silence and made her ears feel like they were clogged with water, Rey's eyes snapped open. She took a quick, sharp breath as she prepared to react to any threat, even as she realized what the muffled thunder and lightning meant:  _he_ was there.

Crouched across the hut, the intruder watched her through the glowing embers of the dying fire. The red light brightened the all-black ensemble he wore and highlighted the scar along his face.

The lightsaber flew to her waiting grasp in the time it took her to blink; she barely had to think about calling it to her. Without rising, she activated the weapon like a dog baring its teeth, holding it's snarling electric beam inches from her face to deter him from coming any nearer. The blue light temporarily blinded her, but not before she saw him flinch in response to her defensive action.

 _That's odd_ , she thought, taking note of the non-threatening stance in which he had positioned himself. Other than his wince, he hadn't moved.

Despite the late hour, it didn't look as if Kylo Ren had been pulled from his own bed, making her wonder what he'd been doing before the Force connected them. She waited for him to speak, to make some comment about the nature of their bond or offer some theory as to why they'd come together now, but he remained mute.

Finally, Rey said, "Why can't we control these meetings? There has to be a way to sever the link, to turn it off."

Dark eyes traveled to her face and traced the loose hair brushing against her shoulders. His head nodded minutely in agreement. "They're becoming too. . ." he searched for the right word, "intimate."

"A nuisance," she countered, exasperation coloring her words.

He raised a gloved hand toward the fire pit. "Our bond is evolving," he observed, splaying out his fingers as though warming himself. "I see everything around you. I can feel the heat of the fire."

That revelation triggered as much concern as it did fascination. With every interaction, the connection they shared seemed to grow and change in some way, strengthening slightly. Like repairing a tear in fabric, each time they met functioned as another stitch closing the gap to bring the two sides closer together. At some point, they'd touch.

As frightening as it was to be linked with a man who had affirmed himself a monster - a collar she had thrust upon him and he'd worn without resistance - Rey had to admit that it also left her feeling. . .invigorated.

Tightening her hold on the saber, she asked, "How long have you. . .?"

"A while," he admitted, then indicated her weapon with a single finger. "Long enough to prove that isn't necessary."

He spoke an uneasy truth.

What if their bond had grown strong enough that they  _could_ harm one another tangibly? There was no way to know without putting the possibility to the test. Even if he couldn't physically attack her within the bond, he could have taken other action against her while she slept. Only a moment would have been needed to invade her mind and discover the location of Luke's hideaway island.

And yet, he hadn't.

Kylo had done nothing to instigate her fear. In fact, he'd done as much as possible to mitigate it: keeping as much distance as the space allowed, kneeling in the dirt to appear at eye-level, remaining in place even when she woke up and drew her weapon.

Rey held no doubt about his lack of nefarious intentions, although her observations of his current behavior only loaned him a sliver of her trust, something she would revoke at the slightest signal that he wasn't being honest with her.

Slowly, she released the pressure on the pad and recalled the blade of light into the cylinder. She placed it on the ground beside the stone bench she used as a bed - there if she should need it, but far away enough to communicate she was granting him a chance.

"If this happens again, don't watch me sleep," she said, propping her head in her hand.

The corners of his mouth tweaked as his eyes flicked to hers. "Concerned about what your dreams will reveal?"

His comment warranted a firmer demand: "Stay out of my head."

"There's no need for me to peer inside your mind to know what makes you claw at your covers."

Her mind raced with images, as if to swipe through and erase them from her memory before he could infiltrate her secrets. She huffed, voice full of vitriol, "Any dream involving  _you_ is a nightmare."

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the smirk that must have felt as foreign as it looked on his lips.

"What?" she asked, momentarily distracted by the sight of him, caught wondering when this man had last allowed a genuine smile to escape him.

"I never said anything about me."

Rey realized her error and tried to backpedal, sputtering, "It - it isn't what you think."

Something like amusement tickled the back of his throat.

" _What?_ " she repeated, so infuriated by his smugness that she forgot any sense of embarrassment.

Kylo glanced up at her, humor lingering in his eyes while it disappeared from the rest of his face. "I expected a scavenger from Jakku to be a better liar."

She couldn't let the comment slide.

With a flourish, Rey tossed the makeshift blanket to the damp ground, starting to spring from her stone bed with every intention of slapping that mischievous expression from his face.

Her body had other ideas.

It screamed at her to stop, each nerve ending along her right side and spine throwing up a cry of "cease and desist." Inhaling a hiss of aggravated pain, Rey fell back to the thin bedroll. She applied firm pressure to the epicenter of the flare up - an apology to herself for forgetting the nasty fall she'd had while training that morning on the slick and rocky surface of the island. Gradually, she released the weight of her hand, letting the muscles settle and relax.

He cleared his throat quietly to regain her attention. "You're in pain."

Rey's gaze met his, surprised to see the look of understanding that she found there. No trace of mockery reflected in his eyes, nor did she feel his remark judgmental, a criticism on her display of weakness. What she saw registered as something softer: concern, perhaps empathy.

His unexpected expression threw her off-kilter. The memories she carried of Kylo Ren juxtaposed with the man crouching in front of her didn't align. This was the same person who had tried to kill her on Starkiller Base, among other atrocious actions. Now he worried for her welfare? She rebuffed the idea.

"Maybe you don't recall from your training: mistakes hurt," she ground out, carefully lifting her legs back onto the stone bench. The nerves in her side had quieted, yet a dull throbbing remained, warning her not to try anything like that again.

"I remember," he stated simply. "I also remember learning to heal myself using the Force."

Her interest piqued in spite of her notions to create distance between them. "That's possible?"

In her brief lesson with Master Skywalker, Rey had learned about the creative and destructive powers of the Force. For every action, another equal in magnitude but opposite in effect occurred. Where death tilled the soil, life planted the seed. For every joy bloomed an accompanying sadness. The universe cycled, a perfectly weighted sphere spun in perpetuum by an invisible force. It made sense that this encompassing, omnipotent power could be used to heal as well as harm.

Rey wished she had intuited that fact on her own instead of having to hear it from a rival like Kylo Ren - apprentice to the mysterious Supreme Leader Snoke.

The gap in her knowledge was apparent to him too. "Skywalker hasn't even -?"

She spoke over him. "Offensive maneuvers are what matter."

Anger tinged his voice when he disagreed. "There are times even the greatest warriors need to retreat and lick their wounds." His fingers clenched into fists at his sides. "Any  _decent_  teacher would have explained that."

He inclined his head, assured of his own superiority to that of his uncle. Flickering light from the embers played over his cheeks, bouncing off the scar that stretched from his forehead to his jawline before disappearing beneath his high collar. Rey thought back to their fight in the snowy forest, visualizing his determination to keep attacking even though the bowcaster shot to his side had hindered him. He'd certainly had no plan to run away and face her wrath another day, as he suggested she learn to do.

"You should take your own advice," she told him, adding, "and I'll keep doing things my own way."

He rose yet stood in place. "Let me teach you."

Again, he offered. Again, she declined. "No."

"Why?"

"We're on opposite sides of a war."

"And, when we next see each other," he expounded, "when faced with that battle, I want you at your strongest."

She parroted his previous question. "Why?"

"Snoke believes you're my equal," he responded. "I want you to prove it."

Rey gave up on trying to parse out his motivations and put forth the underlying reason for her hesitance. "I don't trust you."

The words deflated him; he seemed to shrink on the other side of the hut, shoulders drooping and curving inward. His gaze fell to the palms of his upturned hands, staring at the shiny black leather as if he could see the stains of his transgressions anew. If he possessed any argument for his defense, convincing or otherwise, he failed to present it.

"Give me this," he intoned instead, seeming to know just how much he asked of her but begging her indulgence anyway. "Just this, Rey."

The whisper of her name crossing his lips made her reconsider. Silent moments passed between them as she debated her options: reject his proposal or allow him to show her a side of the Force she hadn't before experienced.

More than her desire to learn another aspect of the strange power dwelling within her, Rey's curiosity rested on the man who had appeared in her hut. In the face of her decision, he was no longer the man she had called a murderous snake. Pleading eyes and a somber expression implored her to choose to see the good in him, to believe his motives were pure. Could this be Ben Solo shining through the guise of Kylo Ren?

Rey exhaled deeply and lowered her head down to the bedroll. "It's only a bruise," she breathed. "There's not much to do about it."

He approached at her implied invitation. "All that huffing and puffing for a bruise?"

A rush of blood flushed to the tips of her ears. Even if the marks on her side were erased, Rey doubted his lesson would help to soothe her wounded ego. The unfamiliar terrain of the island had bested her in a humbling way. She'd never dreamed of picturing Jakku's desert environs as soft or forgiving, yet the rocky outcrops of Ahch-To had proven more ruthless and unmerciful than the sandy junkyard of the galaxy.

He stood next to her bed, hovering near her hips. His proximity unnerved her.

"Well?" she prompted.

He cleared his throat but didn't look down to meet her puzzled expression. "I need to see what I'm dealing with."

"Oh."

She wouldn't expect the Resistance's medics to treat her injuries without revealing the site in question, so she couldn't explain why she thought it would be different with Kylo using the Force to the same end.

Sudden anxiety gnawed in the pit of her stomach. She could still stop this, tell him to back off and go away. She could say she'd changed her mind and didn't want to go through with it if it meant baring herself to him in this way.

Rey refused to be deemed a coward.

Her fingers closed around the hem of the utilitarian tunic, rolling it up and pulling it toward her head until the fabric bunched in the crook of her armpit. Underneath her tunic, she was naked; she'd removed the linen she typically wore around her breasts, unable to endure the restrictive and tight garment rubbing against her damaged skin. Though her shirt still covered her breasts, she cupped the one closest to the bruise in her left hand, pulling the tissue taut so she had a better view of what he was about to do.

Kylo watched her movements, concealing whatever discomfort he may have felt over her bare skin under a stoic facade. His eyes assessed the mottled, discolored area which stretched from the top of her hip to the bottom of her rib cage. At the center, the bruise was still a deep, inflamed red; the edges had started to turn varying shades of blue, spreading like the imprint of a hand along her side.

"It's a wonder you can move at all." Admiration dripped from his voice, atonement for the teasing of his prior remark.

"Where I'm from, if you don't move, you don't eat."

He didn't comment on the unforgiving nature of her home planet, focusing on his task instead.

Kylo didn't remove his glove before skimming his hand over the expanse of her bruise, not quite touching her, tickling the fine hairs across her skin. She could feel the warmth of his body above her own, sensations neither of them expected to be able to perceive through their bond. Testing their connection even further, Kylo pressed three fingers against a dusky blue area of her bruise.

Rey drew away quickly, regretting the movement almost instantly as another series of stabs pierced along her spine. Her face contorted as she fought to hold back a string of expletives.

Kylo's hand retracted in response to her visceral reaction. His fist closed, and a shadow crossed his face. "Tell me," he began. "Is it my touch that repulses you?"

Of course he would make this about him. The hurt etched across his features stung her as well, though Rey couldn't decipher why.

Her eyes pierced him with a warning, but her response was kinder. "Gently."

Dark eyes searched hers before he asked, "May I proceed?"

At her approving nod, a single finger ghosted over her skin, tracing the rim of the bruise as if mapping it in his mind. He never ventured into the red, angry heart of her injury which throbbed in time with her pulse.

Rey grit her teeth as his inspection continued. Even though he barely applied any pressure, her body twitched with each stroke of his finger. He'd complied with her request to the letter, yet his tenderness drove her mad.

"Stop squirming," he instructed.

"Then get on with it." Rey's breath hitched when he found a particularly sensitive spot near her lower back. "You're enjoying this too much."

Her comment lifted the corners of his mouth, tugging out a small smile. It departed quickly, replaced with a confession, "I don't know if this will work."

Her body seized beneath him as she fumed. "You're telling me this now?"

"You wanted to explore the limits of our bond," he reminded her.

"I wanted to disconnect," she corrected him.

Inquisitive eyes glanced up at her. "Aren't you curious? How far we can push the boundaries of reality?"

It would be a lie to say she held no interest. Deep down, she wanted to understand as much as possible about their entangled minds.

"Yes," she allowed.

With her permission, Kylo withdrew his fingers from her body and lifted his hand just high enough to hover over the curve of her side where the damage was the most severe. Then his tone shifted, and he became a teacher delivering a lecture.

"Healing with the Force is straightforward," he began. "Injuries are disruptions. They break, mar, bruise, or otherwise harm a connection between things that are meant to be bonded together."

A white light began to emanate from his palm, spreading down his fingertips and blanketing her body in rippling waves of energy that dissipated almost as quickly as they were generated. Rey watched the process with intrigue, noting his movements and trying to connect to how he felt in order to achieve this act.

In a hushed voice, he continued, "To fix what's broken, you reach out to the Force and visualize the connections repairing themselves."

While he spoke, the splotchy red patches discoloring her skin began to grow fainter, reverting to their usual hue. Erasing the unnatural color also alleviated the discomfort she'd been fighting since her fall that morning.

"It seems simple enough," she surmised, confident that she could master this technique just as she had all the other uses of the Force to this point. "I didn't realize the dark side had this kind of power."

Kylo frowned. "Healing through the dark side is inadvisable."

"I thought -?"

"The effects are temporary," he explained. "And the cost too high."

If he wasn't using the dark side to accomplish this restoration, did that mean he had called upon the light? She waited for him to go on, to elaborate on what price must be paid to harness such power, but he remained silent, focused on spreading the white light over the entirety of her bruise.

Rey noted the dots of perspiration which beaded at his temples. "What is it costing you to do this?"

The  _for me_  stuck in her throat.

"Energy. Strength," he listed, shaking his head as if to say he could spare such things without repercussion. "And I doubt our connection will hold much longer."

She had felt it wavering too. Like the final heartbeats of the embers, he would blink out of existence and become ash - the weightless memory of something both dangerous and nurturing.

The realization should have brought her relief, knowing he'd be gone. So why did the idea of parting with him create an ache she couldn't readily name? It differed from the loneliness she'd known on Jakku, yet it sprung from the same well.

An involuntary shiver rippled across her body.

"Does it sting?" he asked, perhaps attributing her reaction to the nearness of his gloved hand to her breast as he treated the tender area on her ribs.

The quiet question was a distraction for both of them. She followed his lead and focused on the sensation the light created within her. After a moment's reflection, she shook her head.

"It feels. . .warm."

He nodded in a knowing way. "The bonds are regenerating. That process gives off heat."

"It's nice," she commented, quick to tack on, "with the fire out."

One eyebrow raised, almost imperceptibly. "You don't feel cold."

Rey flushed - the color he'd wiped away from her side tinting her cheeks - as he pulled his hand back and looked down at the unblemished skin with pride.

Rey sat up, instantly noticing how much easier it felt to breathe. Still holding her shirt against her chest, she used her other hand to palm and pat the length of her torso. Her own fingers poked and prodded in a rough and uncaring way, going so far as to squeeze a section of skin to test if only the surface had been augmented.

He cleared his throat, loudly this time, and assured her, "Any lingering soreness will be gone by morning."

Her wonder turned to appreciation. She tried to dim her impulsive smile by biting down on it, hoping it didn't scare him away. "Ben -"

Whether it was the smile or the name, he stepped back as if she'd swung at him.

Before she could reach out to him again, she felt it: the fade.

As he departed, he left her with some more advice: "Be more mindful when you train. And don't neglect defensive action."

"Ben. . ." she started again, but he was already gone.

Rey crossed her legs and concentrated on chasing the connection down the narrow corridor that ran between them like a tunnel. She pushed out her  _thank you_ , hoping it would echo through the universe and find him at the dim light she could see in the distance.


	2. Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finds him after the funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with Leia's passing. If that isn't your cup of tea, please tab back now.

**Chapter Two: Cut**

* * *

 

It wasn't the Supreme Leader she noticed first. When her eyes adjusted to the low lighting of his personal quarters, they absorbed unmitigated destruction. Ancient books and writing utensils had been swiped from the sleek desk, while its accompanying durasteel chair had lost three legs. Along the wall, the reflective panels bore a ragged pattern of burns and scorch marks. One panel had been shattered, exposing the joints of the wall beneath; its glass surface lay scattered across the floor.

Only the bed remained untouched by the storm which had swept through the suite-a storm which had begun and ended with the man sitting on the mattress.

A long and arduous month had worn away since Snoke's assassination, Luke's death, and the Resistance's escape from Crait. For a month, no words had passed between them. Having discovered the door within her mind that linked their consciousness, she'd kept it closed to his repeated knocking. Some days she'd twisted the lock, her fingers clasped around the handle, ready to peer through the crack; on others, she'd thrown the bolt and slumped against it for added security.

Even with the barrier between them, she always knew he waited on the other side. She sensed that even if she were to bar him permanently from entering, he would remain posted just outside of her immediate reach.

Thankfully, Rey hadn't resorted to such drastic measures. Circumstances had changed: General Organa was dead. While the whole of the Resistance had gathered to mourn the loss, the survivors of the  _Raddus_  wore their devastation most openly.

They were not alone in their grief.

At the time of Leia's passing, Rey had felt a blast of searing pain tear through her mind like a wildfire. Ferocious waves of heat had blistered her side of their bond, stealing through the cracks in the frame and singeing her already damaged psyche.

Days had elapsed, and the flames of his anguish had been extinguished, doused by an even more suffocating emotion. Rey decided the time had come to drop the chain and open the door. She couldn't ignore him or his personal turmoil any longer; she didn't have the capacity for such cruelty.

Stepping out, she had found the bridge stronger than ever before, fortified instead of neglected. She had passed through the space and connected to his mind with ease; he'd had no desire to keep her out.

"Ben?" she asked, uncertainty coating the single syllable. She hesitated at the edge of the room, waiting to gauge his reaction to her intrusion.

Perched on the lip of the mattress wearing only a pair of tight black pants that cut off mid-thigh, he appeared leaner than when she had last seen him, yet the muscles in his arms and chest were more defined. At another time, on another world, seeing him half-dressed had unsettled her. This exposure read differently: everything about his countenance reeked of defeat.

"The funeral. . ." he rasped, choking on the word and pausing to collect himself. He didn't raise his head as he asked, "Is it over?"

"No," she replied, hedging closer. "The remembrance ceremony will last through the night. I slipped away when I could."

"Why?" A hint of hostility underscored his question. "Why did you come here, Rey? To marvel at my misery?"

She bristled, chest puffing out to rattle off a defense. Instead, she took a deep breath before telling him the truth: "I came to say I'm sorry for your loss."

His hands clenched and unclenched against his knees. With his body bent forward, she couldn't see his face, only the tension that traveled from his hands to his shoulders and down his spine like his body was attempting to shirk her condolences.

"You came to exploit my weakness." The accusation came out as a growl. "To turn me."

Rey's cautious shuffling ceased. His rejection of her honest concern stung like a hard slap.

"I wanted to remind you that you aren't alone. That's all," she stressed, feet planted firmly in place while her body leaned forward for emphasis. "Clearly, I've made a mistake."

For a man who believed in letting things go, he couldn't seem to follow his own advice. His unrelenting grip on the past had yielded deadly results, yet he still clung to hopeless ideals. If he couldn't see that progress came through accepting past events and recognizing their triumphs and failures as important lessons, he would be doomed to repeat the mistakes of his dead master.

He was right, though. In a way. At no time had she stopped hoping he would come to see reason and join the light again. She'd only given up on being the one to convince him. That decision rested wholly upon his shoulders now-no one else's.

Disappointment bored into her chest as she began to pull back, to retreat and close the passageway once again. Reopening it had done nothing except pick apart a half-healed scab.

"We're the same now. You and I."

The quiet remark detained her.

"Albeit, I'm an orphan of my own making."

In a handful of determined strides she crossed the room to stand in front of him, intent on making one thing clear: "You had nothing to do with General Organa's death."

At this proximity, she could see the sneer pulling back his upper lip though his eyes remained downcast. It was as if he were talking to himself instead of addressing her.

"Didn't I?"

An overwhelming urge to allay his self-hatred excavated the details she knew from spending time at the general's bedside hours before she had passed on to the next realm. "She died due to complications from prolonged space exposure. Not by your hand."

"You're forgetting that I initiated that attack."

"Under Snoke's orders. You were under his control," she fired back. "You aren't at fault."

His head swayed from side-to-side, jaw tightening. "Truly, your naiveté is unbecoming."

Unable to tamp down her anger any longer, she gave voice to her frustrations: "Why are you consumed with the need to blame yourself for something you didn't do?"

He stood up, surging toward her yet stopping short. Rey's heart lodged in her throat, adrenaline kicking in, but she stood her ground as he loomed over her. He couldn't hurt her here, not within the bond. They both knew that.

"Do you honestly believe the death of her husband wasn't a blow to her soul?" His words ran together, spit out like rapid blaster fire. "That the loss of the Hosnian System didn't cut her to the core? Or that her heart didn't fracture even more when she felt Luke's lifeforce fade?"

Each offense landed like a lash. Rey faltered under the magnitude of his crimes and the torment he carried because of them.

Tears welled in his eyes and ran down his face. His voice became measured, scathing, and resolute. "I killed my mother just as surely as if I'd struck her down with a saber."

Heat radiated off of him; however, it was the coldness she could feel through their bond that scared her most. She couldn't leave him without imparting Leia's final thoughts: "Whatever you may think, your mother loved you. More than anything." Rey peered up into his face with all the determination she had, challenging him. "She died still believing in you, her son. She trusted that you would see the light."

"Then she died a fool," he claimed, pivoting away. "It's too late."

Her frustration released on a snarl. Stomping her foot to regain his attention, she indicated the upended room. "If you didn't love her, if you didn't care-why do all this? Why mourn for her now?"

His hands flew up, anchored themselves deep within his hair, and pulled back the dark locks until it looked painful. Claws of anger and despair embedded in his chest and tore a bellow from his lungs, at once volatile and sorrowful.

" _She was my mother!"_

Raw agony consumed him before her eyes. He lurched away from her, hands alighting on the barren desk and flipping it to its side. The action failed to satisfy the chaos reigning within him.

Much to her astoundment, Rey watched as the debris littering the floor began to rise and spin, gravitating toward him as though his body were a magnet for the damage. In just a few moments, glass shards, splintered wood, and broken metal whizzed around him, creating a terrible whirlwind that battered the figure standing in the center of it all, though he barely registered the bits of destruction colliding against him-even when they drew blood.

Rey scrambled to interfere with the dark energy fueling his outburst and to quell the Force generated winds that whipped her ceremonial garments around her small frame. Each time she reached into his mind, her efforts were pushed aside.

"Ben!" she cried, trying in vain to break through to him.

Hands still pulling at his hair, he vented the source of his anguish. "These feelings. . .they're ripping me apart."

"Don't fight them!" she called. "Accept them. Your emotions are your strength, not your weakness. Acknowledge how you feel!"

His roar echoed off of the walls of his room. " _I loved her!_ "

In that moment, time stopped and gravity weighed heavy. Bits of wreckage dropped from the air around him, clanking against the ground at his feet.

Ben fell too, exhausted, although he managed to direct himself toward the bed where he slumped awkwardly. "I loved  _them_ ," he repeated on a sob.

Rey approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him. Her boots crunched against the debris at their feet. A foot away, she came to a stop, unsure of what to do next. She'd never comforted anyone; on Jakku, people died in the unmarked paths around Niima and often went unattended, hardly noticed except by the shameless pickers who stole any remaining valuables the body carried. No one mourned for a fallen scavenger, and no one gave thought to seek out surviving kin. How could Rey show she sympathized with him over the loss of his mother?

It was Ben who reached for her, his hands grasping the soft burgundy fabric at her hips, fingertips digging in just above the bone and drawing her closer, closer. He shifted his position until he sat upright, posting Rey between the space of his open legs.

Still crying, he leaned his head against her torso, breath ragged and hot just above her navel. Her hands naturally moved to his head, smoothing his hair, then her arms stretched around his broad shoulders, hugging him to her body. If this is what he needed, she could give it to him.

A thought circled through her mind, suggesting one more thing she could share with him to ease his pain: a part of herself he didn't yet know.

"I was eleven when I first considered I'd truly been abandoned," she began in a soft, detached voice, as if remembering someone else's life. "I was angry. Angry and reckless."

Ben tilted his head minutely, closing his mouth to muffle his cries so he could listen to what she had to say.

Rey continued. "I flew to an old Destroyer and lashed out with everything I had. When my hands were bloodied, I used my feet. When my feet grew sore, I picked up my staff."

Even all these years later, Rey's impulsive actions left her with residual shame. She stroked his hair and noticed how his breathing had evened out. Then she went on, "I'd worked myself into a proper fit when I punctured a pressurized temperature gauge."

Against her stomach, Ben inhaled sharply. She imagined he could picture what happened next.

"The explosion didn't do much damage," she eased his thoughts, "but the fumes that followed were enough to kill me."

His fingers flexed at her hips. The small movement drew her out of the unpleasant memory.

"I let my anger and despair control me," Rey concluded, "and it almost cost me my life."

Ever so gently, she tugged on the ends of his hair, wanting him to make eye contact with her before she made her final point. He didn't resist, gazing up at her with swollen eyes and a reddened nose. Rey's thumbs swept the remaining dampness from beneath both eyes simultaneously.

"You have a choice, Ben: come to terms with how you feel, or let the remorse and guilt for your past transgressions eat away at you."

His jawline tensed, his dark eyes searching hers for something. "Hux is right: my emotions make me unstable, conflicted."

"It's a good thing," she assured him. "Where there's conflict, there's hope."

She thought she saw something very much like hope flicker behind his eyes until they broke away from her own, sketching down her cheeks to rest on her lips. The weight of his stare alone parted them, ready to offer more words of encouragement, equally prepared to impart her feelings without vocalizing them.

When she swallowed, he tracked the movement, dragging down her neck and finding the points of her collarbone. The last time he had inspected her this carefully, this closely, she'd been strapped to an interrogation table.

Rey inhaled deeply, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. The rise and fall of her chest did not go unnoticed by the man before her; neither did the object dangling at the end of the delicate golden chain that lay between her breasts.

His eyes widened as a long-buried memory resurfaced to remind him where he had seen the gold and aquamarine ring before.

Rey had forgotten she'd carried the token here for a specific purpose. Immediately, her hands moved to lift the chain over her head and bestow the heirloom to its rightful owner, but his middle finger pushed into the center of the ring, crooked around the base, and pulled it closer to his face. The elaborate ring couldn't fit over the first joint of his finger.

His bottom lip trembled. "She gave this to you?"

"For you," Rey explained, trying once again to lift the necklace over her head.

This time, he let the ring slip from his fingertip, though he didn't let it go far. Pressing the ring between his palm and her chest, he held it there for a long moment as he tried to compose himself. Tears shimmered across his vision again; he worked his jaw, his mouth chewing through silent words and sentiments as he fought to stave off the flood of unwelcome emotion.

"Keep it."

"She wanted you to have it," Rey protested softly, placing her left hand on top of his.

He swallowed with some difficulty. The lump in his throat strangled his words: "It will disappear when you do."

The reminder and the despair it created struck something deep within her. Not knowing what to say or what she could do to ease his turmoil, Rey's hand slid along his arm until it came to cup his cheek. Her eyes darted everywhere, unable to focus on the emotion which poured out of his expression in tandem with the sensations that rolled through her mind.

As her gaze scanned across his bare chest, she noticed a line of oozing blood. One of the pieces of debris had cut him during the maelstrom which had overtaken him a short time ago.

A thought clicked into place. "Then I'll leave something else behind."

She considered the wound: superficial at most, no longer than the length of her palm and relatively shallow-something she could deal with. Ever since he'd shown her how to use the Force to heal in her hut on Ahch-To, she'd been practicing on her own bumps and bruises.

Keeping her hand less than an inch from his skin, Rey set about repairing the small slash. She focused her mind on the job, biting down on her lip as she visualized the tissue coming back together.

The more she sought the Force, the more her sight honed in and illuminated all the small connections that had to be rebonded to mend the cut. In a few short breaths, the process became more complicated than anything she had attempted before. Unwilling to give up, she placed the fingertips of her free hand against her temple and concentrated harder.

"Rey. . ." A hoarse warning coated his voice.

Perhaps he'd noticed the slight tremor in her hand or the sweat beading at the edge of her hairline. None of that mattered. Even if her efforts to comfort him on a deeper level amounted to nothing, she could rid him of some small, tangible hurt.

Her hard work ended in success after another long minute. To her pleasure, only a faint line marked his chest when she finished, hardly noticeable in the dim light of the room.

The undertaking-even one so simple in theory-completely zapped her of her strength.

Unbalanced and weak-limbed, Rey swayed forward as if she were going to faint. Strong hands braced her, gripping her biceps to steady her. Moving one arm around her body, Ben helped her descend safely. He lowered her onto his lap, swinging her legs to one side. Shifting slightly, he cradled her against him and directed her head to his shoulder with a light touch.

Nestled against him, Rey took a few moments to recover in silence. Her breathing was shallow, as strained as if she'd just lugged a full sack of scrap metal to the polishing yard. Each inhalation carried a clean scent tainted with the tang of salt from Ben's skin, soothing her as much as the warmth of his body and the easy rhythm of his own breathing. Every sensation surged through their bond, so acute it felt like she had truly crossed a bridge to be with him instead of phoning in from light-years away.

Unexpected and tender, she felt his lips skim against her forehead. All of the composure she had been summoning together vanished. This was a side of Ben Solo she had not yet witnessed, though she had suspected for some time that a gentle heart dwelt deep within its bruised exterior.

"I'm impressed," he whispered.

Rey felt heat rise up the back of her neck, uncomfortable with accepting praise. It was an alien gift to her ears, even after Leia, Finn, and the others had showered her with plaudits following their escape from Crait.

"This is embarrassing," she commented, nudging his shoulder with her nose and trying to hide. "Why am I this tired? I've healed more than a cut or two since you last saw me. This doesn't usually happen."

His hand traveled up and down her arm as he pondered her question. "Healing others requires a vast amount of effort," he offered. "You're also on a distant planet, healing remotely."

Rey raised a hand and ran her index finger along the new scar she had given him. Would more of their encounters end with such crude tallies of their time together?

"You should be proud," Ben concluded.

She smiled because she agreed with him. "I'm getting stronger."

His fingers moved from her arm to rest under her jaw, tilting her head in an undemanding way. Their eyes connected and held as he uttered: "You're more powerful than you realize."

There wasn't much distance to close when she kissed him, but he obligingly dipped his head to meet her halfway. The initial shock of it made them both gasp, the spark between them more intense than when they had touched in the hut on Ahch-To. Messy and unsure at first, they adjusted to more accomodating angles and let their passion direct their movements. They were quick to give in to the deep-seeded hunger they each carried-a need to be whole, to tie together the cords of strength and vulnerability, to belong to something other than themselves.

Ben pulled back abruptly, frowning as a thought worried his brow. "That's why you should join me."

"We've had this conversation before," she reminded him harshly while trying to catch her breath. The sudden change in tone rang discordant with the racing of her pulse. "My answer remains the same."

His frown deepened, and his voice became more urgent. "My mother and the rest of the admirals are gone. The Resistance will crumble."

"What are you saying?" Rey wanted to push away from him, though doubted she had the ability to stand on her own yet.

"There will be an attack."

Her heart stalled. "Is that a threat?"

Rey struggled to get out of his arms, causing his grip to tighten around her. She shook, angry enough to bite, to howl like a wounded animal before it attacked. How could he say these things after what they'd just shared?

"A caution," he clarified. "Don't be a fool. You knew this is what would happen."

"You're still a monster," she whispered.

Breathless from the stab of his betrayal, Rey finally wrenched herself away and collapsed to the floor. Much to her chagrin, she couldn't push herself to a standing position to put distance between them; she would have to settle for breaking their connection.

As she fled back to her imagined doorway and loosened her grip on the bond that held them together, she heard his final words: "They want you dead, Rey."


	3. Wounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an attack on the Resistance, Kylo finds Rey in dire straits.

 

Another blistering spasm wracked the left side of her body as Rey stumbled into an old instructional room. Covered in dust, the space contained metal desks and chairs rusted at the joints—skeletons of another era. Cracks in the tile where vegetation had pushed through to reclaim its domain made the floor uneven and dangerous to navigate on shaky legs.

Gritting her teeth and moving as quickly as she dared, Rey picked her way to the cabinets behind the lectern. Despite the aging facility, she hoped the room still housed some rudimentary aid supplies. Without them, her chances of seeing the dawn were next to nothing.

The blast to her shoulder caused shooting pain to radiate down her arm, spreading to her upper back and chest. Distracted by her wound and occupied by her search, she never felt the tug against her little finger that signaled their connection. Only after he spoke in the strange silence did Rey realize he had fully breached the mental barrier she'd slammed shut after their last encounter.

She'd felt Kylo seeking her out during the midst of the battle. As her stamina had depleted, her ability to brush off his advances had faltered. Unable to focus on fighting the stormtroopers circling around her while also keeping him at bay in her mind, Rey hadn't been quick enough to deflect the shot that had nearly cost her an arm.

Forced to retreat from the battlefield for aid in whatever form she could find it, Kylo's intrusion didn't pose much of a threat to her friends or their cause.

"Something's wrong." Ill-concealed panic shaded his voice. "Everything is blurred. I can only see your outline."

Rage flared within her over his concerned tone. The flash of emotion sent a fresh stab to the partially cauterized injury she'd torn open again.  _How dare he show up now? Here? Acting as if he cared?_  If she weren't so preoccupied replacing her makeshift tourniquet with something more stabilizing, she'd throw all of her anger and hatred in his face, force him to retreat from their connection with her ire alone.

But that would be a waste of energy in her current condition, she reasoned.

"Where are you?" he asked when she didn't speak.

"Go—away!" The command came out shrill, broken. Her left hand started shaking. Was it induced by shock and blood loss? Or did it reflect her desire to destroy the creature who insisted on chasing her down like a hunter tracking injured prey through the woods?

He'd betrayed her for the last time. After all their shared moments and intimate connections, he had still sanctioned the slaughter of the Resistance supporters who had fled to the old Rebellion outpost.

"Rey. . ."

Her name on his lips sent her whirling around, an agonized shout ripping from somewhere deep within her—torment on a level she had never known. It went deeper than the blaster wound, bruised her more than the memories of being abandoned, seeing Han murdered, or watching Finn slashed down on Starkiller Base. It was akin to losing General Organa, a mother figure she'd become wholeheartedly attached to in the short month they'd had together.

Heartbreak swelled: absolute and eclipsing.

The spin cost Rey her balance. On her way toward the floor, her right arm clipped a freestanding cabinet next to the lectern, taking it down with her. The doors opened and relinquished a cascade of tools and supplies in a haphazard pile. Darkness rushed in at the corners of her vision—a sure sign the simple bandages and compression pads she'd come to find would be of no real use.

" _Kriff_ ," he swore, eyes dancing over her shaking form. "Look at you."

Her eyes scanned upward, landing upon the cloaked figure for the first time. Against his usual dark ensemble, only his pale face stood out—a face, she noticed, which was even more stark than what she had become accustomed to during their interactions. Rey couldn't decipher his surroundings from the shadows that all but swallowed him. Deep brown eyes reflected his concern; the intensity they harbored caused her gaze to shift away, unable to meet such emotion knowing her sorry appearance had evoked it.

Redirecting her attention to her environment, Rey discovered a metallic toolbox stamped with a medical symbol. She reached for the lifeline, heaving it toward her with her good arm while admonishing his presence.

"Come to gloat?" The bite in her tone was unmistakable.

He peered over his shoulder before responding in an equally unamused voice: "Contrary to what you believe, I take no pleasure in seeing you bleed."

Rey fumbled with the latches on the medkit, her dexterity slipping; the nimble-fingered scavenger within her scolded the clumsy attempt.

"Then you've really tapped in at the wrong time," she huffed, finally popping open the rusty latches. Without ceremony, Rey dumped the contents on the tile, rooting through them to find something useful. Gauze, bacta swabs, and some pre-filled syringes made up most of the supplies.

Rey picked up the nearest syringe and examined it; the label had faded and peeled with time, obscuring its purpose. The others were equal mysteries. Standard medkits came equipped with pain medication, adrenaline boosters, and antibiotics. Special cases included a fourth type of syringe: one which brought a swift death should a pilot or soldier fall into the hands of the enemy.

There was no way to know which type she held in her hand. Rey vented her frustration with a litany of Jakku curses.

He shook his head, pleading with her. "Expired training supplies are useless. They'll do more harm than good. You need serious aid."

A harsh sound crawled up the back of her throat. "Our support frigate is gone. The station's medbay is past capacity.  _There is no help_."

He looked over his shoulder again— _why did he keep doing that?_ —then turned back to her. A gloved hand smoothed the agitation creeping across his forehead. "What about the worthless friends you fight for? Where are they when you need them?"

The empty metal kit flew in his direction, crashing just in front of his feet. If she'd possessed an iota of spare strength, it would have been a direct hit. "My friends are still out there fighting— _dying_ ," she spat at him, "because of  _you_."

As soon as the spark of anger subsided, Rey regretted the needless drain from her already waning energy. Her head felt woozy. The pain in her arm had started to fade, replaced by a chill that did not bode well.

"I gave no order of attack."

Maybe her hearing was failing too, because what she'd heard didn't make any sense. "You. . .what?"

He stepped closer; Rey responded by inching back until she bumped into the wall. Crouching next to her, his hooded cape spilled around him in a black pool of thick wool.

"I didn't order the attack," he reiterated, his voice quiet yet urgent.

"How can I trust you?"

It wasn't a question of if she believed him: she did. Even if her mind wanted to blame him, to curse him for his allegiance to the First Order, her heart accepted the sincerity he exuded in his statement. The part of his soul fused with hers through their bond revealed the truth.

His voice dropped to a murmur. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Her head lolled away from him, once again unable to meet the earnestness behind his expression, raw and unprotected—vulnerable. His eyes were her undoing: they exposed the light within him, separated Ben Solo from the title he had worn as a shroud against perceived weakness.

"Then who…?" she whispered.

"That usurping bastard: Hux."

When he said the name, she connected the signs. His panic, the frantic glances over his shoulder, the sense of alert that thrummed through him and into her consciousness. The implication became achinginly clear: "He's hunting you."

Ben grimaced, nodded, and immediately tried to reassure her. "I'm safe for now."

"You should go," she told him. "Escape while there's still a chance."

His jaw went slack with shock. Shaking his head in disbelief and denial, he calmly said, "Delaying my fate isn't worth your life."

If his worry over her survival cost him his own, Rey would never forgive herself. She had to make it out of this situation alive. All her life, she'd been a survivor; there was no way she would give up now.

Maybe the aged medical supplies scattered around her would do her no good, but she still had one option. She could try to heal herself using the Force. Granted, it would be a big undertaking; the blaster's plasma had sliced through layers of tissue and muscle. The most she'd ever healed had been the superficial cut on Ben's chest—a task which had exhausted her.

She imagined a wound of this nature would require even more skill and power than she had previously utilized. Rey's confidence in herself and her abilities wavered, though she supposed even a novice attempt at employing the regenerative power would be better than no attempt at all. Right?

Gingerly, she began untying the impromptu cloth bandage she'd fashioned from one of her arm wraps. The soaked fabric dripped red; the color stained her tunic and smeared down the exposed skin of her arm. While Rey had garnered her unfortunate share of injuries on Jakku, she'd never lost this much blood in one incident.

Ben watched, brows drawing together and eyes growing wider. "What are you doing?"

With a muffled grunt, she stripped the bandage away completely. Her breath came in short, shallow pants as fresh blood trickled from the blaster wound. "The Resistance can't lend me the aid I require," she acknowledged, "so I'm going to fix this myself."

Recalling her training from Ben, Rey's right hand hovered over the injury, barely an inch from the surface of her skin. You can do this, she thought as she centered herself, trying to push beyond the pain.

"Don't," Ben cautioned. "You're too weak. You're training is incomplete."

Both observations were true; she ignored him nonetheless. Focusing on the Force, she tried to connect the shredded muscle and tissue beneath her fingers while talking herself through the action. "I just—have to—control—"

"Stop it!"

"—the bleeding," Rey finished on a loud groan.

Her right arm went limp, landing in her lap. The exertion had wiped her out, but had done little to stem the bleeding or mend her wound; if anything, her efforts had left her worse off than when she'd started. As Ben had said, she was just too weak. She'd used too much energy fighting the First Order to use the Force to heal herself.

While death didn't scare her, she feared what would become of the man she'd given everything to save from the darkness if she succumbed to its fatal embrace. Ben Solo crouched beside her, though the current circumstances were nothing like the vision she'd had what seemed like a lifetime ago.

A sob rattled through her chest, tears following afterward. Their intertwined fates would amount to nothing if it ended now; she couldn't accept that.

Determined, the hand in her lap twitched and lifted slightly for a second attempt, knowing it would be her last if she failed.

A warm hand—large and uncalloused in comparison—encompassed hers. Skin-to-skin, the comforting touch begged her to open her eyes. They blinked apart just as his head bent forward, face curtained by dark tendrils of hair. His lips brushed against her knuckles.

When he spoke, his voice resonated with reverence, awe. "Idiot." He whispered it like a term of endearment. "You'll kill yourself like this."

"Wouldn't it have come to this eventually?" she asked, voice hollow. "My destruction? Yours?"

Her words knocked him to his knees. "How can you say that?" A clenched fist rapt against his chest over his heart. "I wanted you to be my queen. I wanted to  _worship you._ "

Rey could feel tears on her cheeks. Was she still angry with him for supporting the brutality of the First Order? Still hurt that he couldn't see the difference between worshiping her and loving her? Or did her sorrow stem from finally having Ben Solo kneeling in front of her and knowing her death would erase him from existence?

She couldn't let that happen. "Ben. . ."

Squeezing her hand to quiet her, he continued. "My vision was wrong. What I need isn't the First Order or to rule the galaxy. What I need is you. Only you, Rey."

With her good hand still enveloped within his, Rey raised her left hand to lay against the side of his face. Thumbing the scar against his cheek, she caressed him. He'd come into her life through violence; she resolved to leave him with love.

Leaning forward, she brought her lips to his. They felt warm against her own. Ben didn't move at first, frozen until her tenderness could thaw him. When he did slant his lips along her mouth, it was controlled and unhurried, light and giving—much different than the kiss they'd shared in his quarters. The surprise of his easy approach took her breath away.

When she could no longer support herself, Rey fell back against the wall and looked up at him through her lashes. A small smile curled the corners of her mouth. "A good note to leave on."

His gloved hand joined the ungloved one still holding onto hers, enfolding her in a contrasting grip. "You aren't going anywhere."

As soon as he'd uttered the declaration, he released his grasp and reached for a syringe filled with yellow liquid.

"What are you doing?" she asked, echoing his earlier words as he popped the cap from the needle. He worked quickly, almost mechanically, as composed and coolheaded as she had ever seen him.

"My father used to keep one of these kits on the  _Falcon_ ," he explained, pushing on the plunger to discharge a small amount of the medicine and potential air bubbles. "I can't have you pass out on me now. I'll disappear."

She barely felt the prick in her thigh. As he rubbed the injection site to spread the medicine, Rey's body revved to life. Every nerve stood on alert, sending shockwaves of rippling pain to her injury. Her heart rate increased, pulse fluttering at her neck. Ben sensed the change, ducking his head to place a kiss against her throat in apology.

"I don't know if this will work. . .or if I have enough strength," he admitted grimly.

"You said that once before," she replied, remembering their experiment on Ahch-To.

He made one last comment, blunt and honest: "It's going to hurt."

She nodded once to show she understood. It couldn't hurt much worse than being shot, could it?

His ungloved hand hovered over the blaster wound, just as hers had. He closed his eyes, concentrating all his energy on the challenge. His breathing steadied and the muscles in his face relaxed as he reached for the Force. He appeared calm, and she marveled at how easily he could push aside his worry and desperation; his years of studying and training with the Force became strikingly apparent.

She realized, belatedly, how her foolhardy arrogance had almost ended her life in trying to heal herself without much experience.

Familiar white light emanated from his palm. At first, she felt a brush of heat at the site of her injury which brought back memories of the time he'd administered the Force on her bruise; nothing unpleasant. As he continued his ministrations, however, the fiery sensation grew and grew until it became almost unbearable.

"It burns!" she cried as tears tracked down her cheeks.

"Regenerating the tissue gives off heat, remember?" he reminded her, once again mentoring her through the process in a patient voice. "A wound this deep requires a great deal of repair."

The lesson fell on deaf ears: she was on fire. Her body arched, trying to tear itself away from the source of its distress. In response, his gloved hand came between them, palm placed in the center of her chest to steady her, to keep her from floating away from him, to tether her to a corporeal realm. The pressure holding her in place felt firm and weighty, but not crushing or restrictive.

"Breathe," he instructed, voice so soothing it sounded like it came from another entity altogether.

She did the opposite, gnashing her teeth together and huffing through the pain.

The briefest flash of a smile caught her attention. "You're stubbornness will get you killed one of these days," he chided with affection. "But that day remains on the distant horizon."

It was over.

He pulled away just far enough to look at his efforts. Rey glanced down at her shoulder as well. Where there had been a ragged hole, there was now a thick, pink scar. Rolling her shoulder experimentally, Rey winced at the lingering ache, but the tears on her face were from another feeling entirely.

Raising her right hand, she swept the sweat from his brow before carding her fingers through his hair and bringing his forehead down to rest against hers. She sensed the exhaustion within him, could only imagine how taxing it had been for him to heal her. Her worried mind brought the memory of Luke Skywalker to the forefront; after intensive use of the Force on Crait, he'd disappeared.

Would Ben disappear too?

"You're trembling," he observed.

"I thought that was you."

She noticed, now, that her body shivered uncontrollably. Her shoulders and arms shook despite her attempts to stop them. The adrenaline had nearly worn off, leaving her feeling sluggish and drowsy, chilled to the core.

With a fluid movement, Ben stood and removed his cloak. Careful that he didn't disturb her sensitive shoulder, he draped the cozy material over her. Then he glanced back again, as if he'd heard something her ears couldn't.

A stroke of panic ran up her spine, sensing his alarm as well. She dreaded the answer to the question she had to ask. "What is it?"

"Footsteps."

"Get out of there." Her warning became a demand. "Come to me."

He bent down, adjusting the cloak and brushing away a sweaty strand of hair glued against her forehead. "Don't do anything foolish for my sake."

She wanted to reach out to him, to hold on and keep him safe, but her body wouldn't cooperate. Her eyes filled with tears she refused to shed because she wouldn't acknowledge this was the end. "This isn't goodbye, Ben."

He closed his eyes as though savoring the sound of his name on her cracked lips, then grimaced as he whispered, "They've found me."


	4. Tortured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finds Ben. It isn't pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning: there will be some body trauma in this chapter.

Armor didn't breathe. It encased and concealed, protected the vital organs, not caring about whether the person inside was going to sweat to death. At least, those were the observations Rey made as she moved along the gleaming, spotless walkways of the First Order's latest flagship in her stolen disguise.

Finn's knowledge of the cooling vents and storage rooms had proven invaluable, though he hadn't been happy to share the information when Rey had explained her plan; she'd chipped away at his reluctance, first with camaraderie, then with guilt, and finally with tears. He'd called her plan suicidal even as he'd sketched a map of the rooms typically used to house prisoners.

Because of his loyalty to Leia, Poe had been more receptive to the idea of creating a distraction while she snuck on board to find and rescue the only living member of the Skywalker bloodline. Acting as his copilot, Chewie had already started booting up the  _Falcon's_  controls during the discussion; Rey had placed her hand on his shoulder in a silent expression of gratitude.

It had been almost  _too_  easy to slip undetected onto the ship; whether Poe's flying maneuvers had worked or if the First Order had expected and permitted her arrival, Rey couldn't say for certain.

She'd proceeded to follow Finn's directions, quickly locating the armory's supply closet. After removing her free-flowing garments—not relishing the idea of a hot, tangled mess inside the stormtrooper armor—Rey had donned a spare suit and helmet. She'd grabbed a standard-issue blaster too, since she no longer possessed a functioning saber.

In her disguise, Rey moved about the ship unobstructed. As she neared Finn's third possible point for a holding cell, vibrations in the Force increased, practically shaking her. She'd finally found the right place. The lack of a posted guard puzzled her because she knew Ben waited on the other side of the durasteel doors. Shouldn't a powerful Force user be monitored at all times?

Rey decided not to question her luck, even if good fortune had no hand in her discovery.

The doors to the chamber retracted and disappeared into the wall. Rey ducked inside, releasing the breath she'd been holding after the doors slid shut again. Motion sensors for the overhead lights didn't seem to be operational, creating a claustrophobic atmosphere in the cavernous space. Shining at the center of the inky darkness were two red circles of electric energy; they crackled and fizzled continuously, reminding Rey of Kylo Ren's lightsaber—Force-dampeners as volatile as the man they held.

The glow of the twin beams illuminated the face and chest of their manacled captive:  _Ben_.

Her boots clipped across the hard floor, echoing faintly in the chamber as she approached him. Propped against a flat surface, he'd been secured in much the same way she'd been strapped to the interrogation table during her time as a prisoner of the First Order. His feet were held in place by a metal bar while his hands were restrained by the flashing currents.

Ben didn't stir until she stood next to him. He glanced up just in time to see her gloved hand lifting toward his face. The armor startled him, and he flinched, shifting his head—the only thing he could move—to the side.

Her hand froze halfway between them. Why couldn't he sense that she was here? Surely her stormtrooper disguise couldn't hide her true identity from someone sensitive in the Force even with the restraints?

Rey pushed the thought aside and moved to take off the helmet. She fumbled with the locking mechanism, then tossed the white and black mask to the ground while shaking out her hair. She dropped the gloves as well, needing to feel his skin against hers.

"Ben. . ." she tried again, "It's me."

He groaned and lifted his head slightly; even the small movement seemed like a struggle. Light from the red bindings highlighted the black, swollen areas around his eyes. Dark streaks ran down the bridge of his nose and in sinister rivulets along his right cheek. The scar she'd drawn across his face had been deliberately reopened, the cut so meticulous it seemed surgically executed.

Rey gasped at the sight of him, taking in each abuse and cursing every day, every hour, which had kept her from pursuing him. Seeing what he'd had to endure made her muscles grow rigid, tense.

Beneath the bruises, his eyes were disoriented and unable to focus. He strained forward to bring their faces closer. "R-Rey?"

The war going on around them rooted into her chest at the broken sound of his voice. All at once she trembled from the internal conflict. Relief coupled with fear, anger with hope. Only brushing her fingertips against his jaw kept her in the moment.

"I'm here," she assured him.

His eyes squinted shut as tight as they would go, contorting his upper lip into a grimace. Rey watched as he concentrated, unsure what he was trying to accomplish. It reminded her of a child banishing a monster by willing what frightened him out of existence.

Or by closing a door.

Now realizing his intent, Rey placed a hand against his chest. The fabric of his vest and shirt had been torn open, and her fingers touched the flesh beneath; she cringed when they encountered blistered, open wounds.

"You can't blink me away," her words started out harsh, then softened. "I'm really here. Flesh and blood." Worried over his apparent doubt, she touched his left cheek. "Can't you feel me?"

His eyes cracked open, a fresh wave of anguish pouring out of them. "You  _are_ here."

Rey's smile of relief was smothered by the horror that overtook his expression.

"Leave," he said.

Rey's head tilted down, unable to meet the urgent command in his eyes. How could he think she would depart without him, that she would leave him alone to die at the hands of Hux and the other generals? Many years ago, she'd made a vow to herself: never leave someone behind. She didn't plan to break that promise just because the odds seemed impossible.

"Once I have you out of these restraints, we'll go together," she declared, reaching out to one of the red dampeners. Even without coming into contact with the beam of light directly, Rey felt a violent, singeing pain flash across her fingers and palm when they got too close.

She swore, drawing her hand back toward her chest, shaking away the smart. The fact that she hadn't even touched the beam and had been stung while both of his wrists were strapped down made her face pale. Maybe this explained why she hadn't been able to feel him through their bond since he'd healed her at the Rebel base: these Force-dampeners were altogether different from the ones he'd used on her in their shared elevator ride. These emitted powerful bolts of energy; the continuous pain radiating through him would certainly undermine the concentration necessary to use the Force.

" _Go_!" He half-shouted the order.

Rey's hand clamped down over his mouth. Her eyes went wide, wondering if he'd lost all sense of rational thought. "Are you trying to get us both killed?"

Beneath her cupped fingers, Ben mumbled something. Rey lifted her hand just slightly so he could repeat himself. "It's a trap."

Her hands danced across the tops of his shoulders, skimmed the edges of the fabric hanging open over his chest. Tugging gently on the torn garment, her mouth worked to contain the barbed words that wished to skewer such an obvious point; what would be the use in yelling at him now?

"Of course it's a trap," she stated at last. Tears stung the corners of her eyes as one hand moved up to fret over a lock of hair that had fallen across his face. "Don't you think I knew the risks in coming here?"

"You understood the danger," he whispered, "yet you came."

Ben made it sound like she'd done something noble. He was wrong. Fear had pushed her to seek him out; selfishness had asked her friends to endanger their lives to help in her pursuit; need had seduced her to cast aside caution and walk onto a ship full of people who clamored for the death of the "last" Jedi.

She had come for herself as much as she had for Ben.

Knowing that their window for escape shrunk with each passing moment, Rey redirected her attention to his restraints. The bar at his feet posed no issue; she simply waved a hand over it and willed it to open.

Turning her attention to the red dampeners, Rey tried the same method without success. Biting her lip in consternation, Rey applied more Force energy to the task. It drained her reserves in a similar capacity to when she had lifted tonnes of rocks on Crait. The electricity faded gradually, flickered as her will began to override the mechanism, and finally disappeared, releasing Ben.

He tipped forward, falling slowly. Rey's shoulder bore the brunt of his weight; however, the differences in their height made her tenuous hold unsustainable. She shifted them both, lowering their bodies to the floor of the room. Without the light from his restraints, they were engulfed in darkness.

Rey hadn't anticipated how weak Ben would be when she found him. While she believed she could haul him out of the room by pulling him like a sack of scrap metal, it wouldn't make for the most inconspicuous exit. He had to recover some of his strength—quickly—if they had any hope of getting out of this alive.

There was a trade-off, of course: using the Force to heal Ben would strengthen him but weaken her.

Ben groaned as she used her hands to explore his arms and chest, going as gently as possible. She started with his wrists, healing the abrasions and irritation caused by the electricity, surprised that the damage to his skin hadn't been more substantial.

"I asked you not to come," he said quietly as she moved to focus on the burns scattered across his chest.

Rey frowned. "The bond between us gave out. I couldn't feel you anymore." Only the darkness could give her the courage to reveal how that loss had affected her. "You'd been cut away from me, and it left this. . .void where  _you_  were supposed to be."

With the wounds on his chest patched up through her speedy handiwork, Rey rested her forehead against it in order to catch her breath and regroup. Healing in person rather than via their bond allowed her to do more, but it still exhausted her energy.

Ben placed his hand on top of her head, stroking her hair as he digested her words. After a moment of quiet, he tried to explain himself, "I wanted you safe."

For a moment, confusion clouded her mind. How could he have ensured her safety unless he had predicted her rescue attempt? Even then, he would have had to try to stop it, and Rey didn't see how that would be possible. The only protection he could offer were secrets—not revealing her location or the plan she'd tried to communicate many times to him through their severed bond.

Then she realized: the bond. He'd purposefully done something to manipulate it.

"You tried to close yourself off from the Force," she said, her voice a mixture of shock and awe. "Like Luke."

His hand stilled against her head, though his fingers pressed into her scalp. Disappointment underscored his words: "With all the success of an apprentice."

Rey's breathing quickened as her throat constricted with emotion. Her last memory of him still flashed within her mind: Ben, drained from healing her shoulder, turning to face the approaching footsteps wearing an expression of trepidation and resignation. Just sensing the imminent danger she couldn't see behind him had been enough to send Rey into a tailspin. After their bond had broken off—leaving her with nothing but his cloak—she'd become desperate to find him, to save him.

How could he believe his choices were justified? Had he even considered what it would put her through?

Her hand fisted into the fabric of his torn vest. She wanted to hit him, to pummel his chest with the ferocity of the outrage and hurt boiling inside of her until she could make it clear to him that he had no right to make that choice.

She channeled her feelings into words instead.

"You left me!" It came out as an accusation wrapped in a choked sob. The tears she'd been holding back since finding him alive finally burst forth. She couldn't attach a specific emotion to them; they were a release of all the things she couldn't express.

Rey tried again. "Don't you da—"

She swallowed the rest of her thought, unable to finish. So many of the people she'd cared for in her life had left her for one reason or another. Would demanding he stay make any difference? Or would it just make her heartbreak that much worse when the inevitable happened?

"Rey—" he tried to interject.

Her hands ached from gripping his vest so tightly. " _I thought you were dead_."

This mission had been an exercise in hope from the start. The fact that he was here, breathing and warm—his heartbeat faintly pulsing against her forehead—still hadn't fully sunk in as reality.

One of Ben's arms moved to her back as he pushed himself into a seated position with the other. Touching the wrist plates of her armor, he coaxed her up. Rey folded her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face against his neck as she tried to compose herself. They didn't have time for tears or confessions.

He held her, whispering, "I'm sorry, Rey."

She pulled back from him, wiping at the water trails on her cheeks with the backs of her hands. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness around them, allowing her to see the outline of his face as he reached out to frame either side of hers. His gaze focused in on her, making sure she heard and understood every last word of his next sentence.

"You will never be alone again."

Without warning, the overhead lights of the chamber came alive, burning across her vision. The soft  _woosh_  of the sliding doors was followed by the steady, punctuated clicks of many boots. Rey drew the blaster across her lap, finger on the trigger. She inclined her head over her shoulder, hazarding a look against the brilliant lights to see what new danger had arrived.

Twelve stormtroopers advanced into the room walking six abreast and two rows deep. They halted their march two yards away. Every blaster trained on their opponents.

Rey's finger itched to clench around the trigger. Ben's grip on her arm tightened almost imperceptibly, wordlessly cautioning her to keep her impulses under control. If she fired now, she would effectively sign away both of their lives.

With some difficulty, she stifled her instincts to fight and rose slowly while keeping the blaster lowered at her side. The troops parted as if on cue, revealing a First Order general who strode forward, hands clasped at the base of his spine and a proud sneer on his face. His crisp, black uniform refused to wrinkle even when he walked; no strand of his light red hair dared to fall out of place.

_Polished malice_ , Rey thought as he came to stand in front of his escort. His expression made it seem like her rescue attempt left him completely unaffected—as if he'd planned it all and had predicted every move she would make.  _This must be General Hux._

Though he lacked the intimidating physicality and mysterious aura of Kylo Ren during their first encounter, Rey couldn't quash the disturbing feeling uncoiling in her stomach. Kylo had been an enigma; Hux wore his thoughts like badges on a lapel, each more concerning than the last. Reflecting back at her were flashes of pride, contempt, hatred, and vengeance.

"Ah, the infamous  _girl_ ," he greeted. "We meet at last."


	5. Turned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to be the end of this fic, but I think an epilogue is in order. I'm in the midst of the Reylo Fanfiction Anthology deadlines, so don't expect an update next week. Hopefully I'll have something the following week. Thanks for reading!

Rey didn't bother with pleasantries. Her blaster took aim at the man she presumed was General Hux given his air of self-importance. "You're going to pay for what you've done to him."

His hand deftly signaled for his troops to hold steady while his eyebrows inclined, a look of forced bafflement etching across his pale brow. "Surely even a sand flea from Jakku realizes when she's outnumbered?"

She ignored the jab, flicking off the safety on the blaster. "I only need one shot."

"An empty threat if I ever heard one."

Rey hiked her own brow, tilting her head to the side in challenge, and lied: "Snoke underestimated me too."

The general's lips settled in a frown that made him look even more severe than his uniform could manage alone. One finger of his raised hand curled ever so slightly. Six blasters shifted targets to point at the man still seated behind her.

His message was clear. Even if she could eliminate Hux with a shot between the eyes, his underlings would riddle Ben with blaster beams in the same breath. Rey immediately relaxed her stance, hand and weapon turning up in surrender.

"Kick it over," Hux demanded, voice supercilious.

Complying with the order, Rey lowered the blaster to the ground and used the side of her boot to kick her only weapon out of reach.

The sneer on Hux's faced widened as he gave his next directive: "Search her. Be  _thorough_."

Two troopers stepped forward from the front line to carry out the order. Rey could see a vibroscanner hanging from each of their belts, but they made no move to use the devices which could effortlessly detect concealed weapons and tracking tech. They reached for her stolen armor instead, disengaging the snaps and locks so they could remove it piece-by-piece.

Rey tensed as the linked chest and back piece was yanked away and added to the pile of wrist guards, boots, shin, and thigh plates. She knew better than to fight back against the demeaning act; that's what Hux wanted: a reaction he could punish.

She'd endured enough of Unkar Plutt's bullish thugs during her life to know when stoicism offered the best defense.

At last, she stood before the room in only her cropped pants, breast band, and arm wraps. The stormtrooper who had removed her leg accoutrements returned, intending to now go over her body with his hands, despite glaring evidence she'd hidden nothing else beneath the armor.

"Don't touch her!" Ben's roar made more than one white suit shift back from its menace. The sound echoed, rumbling off the walls of the chamber.

The emotion radiating off of him thrummed through Rey, filling the part of her mind he'd attempted to vacate while imprisoned under Hux's decree. It felt like a hot gust of wind rushing past her, threading under and through her clothes, heating the skin beneath. The sensation reminded Rey of her home planet, but it wasn't the memory of Jakku's environment she'd been missing: it was Ben.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back to keep Hux from thinking he'd broken her down by having her armor stripped away. Rey turned slightly to see Ben attempting to stand.

"Don't," she said. "Save your strength."

Though his voice had been restored, Ben's shaking legs and unsteady movements proved he needed more time to physically recover. He collapsed back to the ground just as half of the guards surrounded him in a circular formation, blasters at the ready.

From a few feet away, Hux watched the exchange with mild interest, surely wondering what weaknesses he could exploit next. Rey tried to use the Force to see if she could discover the thoughts behind his calculating stare, but the other minds in the room interfered and left her feeling scrambled.

"What is it about you that stirs such passion in Ren?" Hux asked, stepping forward to circle around her as though inspecting her for peculiarities. "You're nothing much on the eyes."

Though far from naked, his once-over left her feeling exposed. Her voice hardened. "Release him."

"Do you intend to make a deal?" The whine of his voice grated against her ears. "I'm afraid I'm not amenable to negotiations."

"It's not a request," she informed him.

He scoffed, pausing at her side. "It's difficult to decipher whether you're impressively bold or simply stupid. In either case, you're in no position to make demands."

"I'm more valuable to you." Rey kept her tone even, unemotional. When haggling, it paid to stay calm and stick to the facts. The Blobfish had taught her that.

Hux's gaze scanned down to look at Ben. He smiled and rolled his eyes back to her as he resumed his measured orbit. "And how did you arrive at such a ridiculous conclusion?"

"You only set bait when you're trying to trap a larger predator."

He laughed, eyes lighting with genuine humor. "You  _are_  a curiosity. I'll give you that."

Stopping behind her, Hux fondled a lock of hair with an odd gentleness that made her hackles spike against the back of her neck. Leaning in, he drew in a deep breath before allowing her hair to fall and dust against her bare shoulder.

Disgust scrunched up his nose. "But no amount of washing could erase the stench that reeks from muck like you." He bent toward her again, lowering his voice so only she could hear his whisper. "You're as worthless as the trash you shovel."

Had he simply insulted her appearance, Rey could have continued to resist her impulses to lash out, but he'd aimed too low by trying to make her doubt her self-worth.

At one time, she may have agreed with him. She'd come from nothing—a child born to drunkards and sold into near-slavery on a junk planet—yet she'd survived everything her brief, harsh life had thrown at her. Hauling scrap may not have been a glamorous life, but it had made her strong. The desert may have tanned her skin, but it had toughened it too. She'd spent years taking apart discarded skeletons of the dead Empire; the things they considered garbage had taught her all she knew about ships and machinery.

Maybe she'd started as a nobody from nowhere, but she'd made herself into Rey of the Resistance, Jedi apprentice.

Hux had no time to react to her explosive rage. Rey swung around, full force, to plant a fist in his face. His neck snapped to the side violently, pulling him to the ground. Rey shouted in attack as she pounced, straddling his chest and using her thighs to clamp his arms at his sides. Without their protection, Rey's battery of punches landed with the satisfying crunch of bones.

Her victory was short-lived. A jolt of electricity pressed between her shoulder blades, stunning her instantly. The voltage was so powerful it made her tongue tingle and her ears ring. Stormtroopers on either side of Rey took hold of her beneath her armpits, hauling her away from the general. In the near distance, she heard Ben screaming her name. Hanging limp and numb between the two guards, only Rey's eyes felt alert and responsive.

Hux shoved off the stormtrooper foolish enough to offer him assistance. A red handprint smeared against the trooper's white chest plate courtesy of the gush of blood flowing from Hux's crooked nose and split lip.

The corners of Rey's mouth twitched; on the inside, she smiled with smug satisfaction to see her handiwork.

Hux finally managed to stand, righting his uniform. As he rearranged his garments, Rey noticed the saber hidden by his hip-flap. Could he have been so stupid to bring it with him?

Blood stained his teeth when he spoke. "You're even more reckless than he is." He nodded in Ben's direction in an unspoken signal. "Well, tempers are infectious things."

The group standing over Ben transformed into vultures picking apart a carcass. Some clawed at his clothing, holding him in place; others kicked the soft tissue of his stomach and sides. A sickening methodology characterized their attack—they'd clearly carried out similar orders before, perhaps many times.

Rey waded through the haze of her mind, panic helping to lift the fog. Her lips formed two words: "Stop it!"

Hux ignored her plea. He unclipped the lightsaber from his waist, rotating it in consideration. "It's time for the Jedi to die," Hux declared. "They are a blight. One I will wipe from existence."

The general crossed over to the prone figure, igniting the red saber—its crackling beams seemed to burn more brightly, fed by Hux's dark intentions. He raised it above his head.

Rey's mind screamed, calling the weapon to her as she had done on the  _Supremacy._  It ripped free of Hux's grasp, but didn't reach her hand. Instead, it clattered to the floor halfway between them, her thoughts still too jumbled to sustain the beckoning.

Hux pivoted on the heel of his polished boot, eyes narrowed into livid slits. He strode toward her, picking up the lightsaber on the way. When he reached her, the hilt of the weapon met her temple in a fluid, brutal hit.

Rey could feel blood pour from the gash, warm and slick. She sagged even more in the arms of the two troopers at her sides. A whimper escaped her as she grit her teeth against the splitting pain in her head.

Hux brought the saber beneath her chin, tilting her head up to deliver his next cruelty. "I was willing to kill him quickly. With that nonsense, you've ensured that he'll die painfully."

The six guards standing around Ben returned to their onslaught, the ferocity of their kicks and stomps even greater than before. Each blow drew another gasp, yelp, or bellow of pain from their victim. Rey could feel their hate seething from beneath their armor and filling the room with the tang of iron mixed with the salt and musk of sweat.

Their loathing washed over her like a bucket of near-boiling water: it burned, but left her feeling more awake than ever, skin tight, airways clear, blood pumping. Her hate and anger grew in response to the energies of those around her until it surpassed all else. At the edge of her despair and desperation to save Ben and herself, Rey encountered what she'd previously buried: the darkness.

There was no small amount of danger in turning to it now. Rey had seen what the dark side had done to Ben Solo when he'd been exploited and corrupted by Snoke. Leia, Luke, and other members of the Resistance had told her not to use it; in their eyes, the dark side could only bring suffering and destruction.

But when harnessing that power could save them, what choice did she have?

Latching on to the new fuel source, Rey used her insight to explore the minds of the room, looking for the weakest link. Maybe her luck had changed, because the trooper on her right proved the most soft-minded. She had used a mind trick once before, though not to the extent she now planned. If she could manipulate him into carrying out her order, maybe she and Ben—whose cries of agony had, alarmingly, ceased—could make it out of this alive.

Rey lifted her head to look into the triangular, black eyes of the man's helmet. "Kill them," she ordered in a quiet, clear voice.

Resistance pushed back against the murderous deed, and Rey knew she hadn't committed fully enough to the dark. Her eyes rolled up, shielded by twitching lids as she searched deep inside herself to accept the sinister tendencies lying dormant within her soul.

Her second enunciation came forth in a measured, confident tone: "Kill them all."

This time, she crushed whatever mental defense had been constructed to fend her off.

The stormtrooper dropped her arm while he lifted and fired his blaster simultaneously. His shots hit their targets with surprising accuracy while the other guards, caught by surprise, struggled to lift their own weapons before being brought down by Rey's puppet.

Five troopers dropped to the ground in quick succession. Each eliminated threat sang through Rey's body, easing her aches and pains. By the time her trooper succumbed to a hail of plasma blasts, Rey had already extricated herself from her other captor and reached out for Kylo's lightsaber once more. This time, the saber soared out of Hux's grip and into her waiting hand, smacking it with a welcome familiarity.

She activated it and sliced through the armor of the guard on her left, turning just in time to block two blaster bolts aimed at her side and head.

Rey turned her attention to the remaining figures standing over Ben's inert body. She leaped over him, swinging a wide arc down and across, taking out two more opponents with one stroke. The others didn't stand any more of a chance, falling to her blood-red blade like the trees that had collapsed on Starkiller Base as the planet split in two.

The only one left was Hux.

She'd saved him for last on purpose, collecting all the panic and anguish from the dying souls before turning to unleash her vengeance on the general. He'd lost his composure, shaking with rage and fear.

"You underestimated me," Rey reminded him, voice tinged by the pride that accompanied victory. "I warned you not to."

With a roar, she extended her right arm—locking at the elbow—and clenched her fingers into a claw. She visualized her grip surrounding Hux's throat and squeezing down on his windpipe, cutting off his air supply. He choked in a satisfying way, but it wasn't enough for Rey, who tilted her arm up just slightly, lifting him from the floor to his tiptoes.

"Mer—cy," he cried, breathless and struggling against the invisible hand that strangled him.

"Ready to make a deal now?" she questioned darkly.

"Yes!" Hux wheezed.

"Stop the war."

"I can't st—" Her arm rose more, dragging him up to dangle in midair. "Yes. Fine."

She wondered how far she could push his desperation to live. "Make me Supreme Leader."

He glared at her over his hands which still clung to his throat, trying to break her hold. Rey squeezed the answer out of him. "All will hail your name."

Her body vibrated with anger. She could imagine no worse fate than leading an oppressive regime. She hadn't accepted Ben's offer after he'd killed the previous Supreme Leader; having it offered to her on a platter made no difference.

"Promise me everything I desire," she said, still toying with him even though her arm fatigued. The power she felt running through her produced a delicious taste at the back of her throat.

"Any-thing," Hux's voice strained. His lips had started turning blue.

His weakness and self-serving attitude disgusted her. "I want every soul the First Order slaughtered to hear your final, sputtering breath," she ground out.

_Rey_. . .

His voice didn't reach her ears, but filled her head, speaking to her through their bond. Rey's hold relaxed minutely, allowing Hux to draw in a precious breath. She glanced behind her to see Ben still sprawled out on the ground. He had to be conscious to communicate with her, though she couldn't tell if his eyes were open from this distance.

_Don't do this_ , Ben continued.  _Let him go._

"It's no less than he deserves," Rey countered, tightening her grasp once again. Her fingers tingled with Hux's racing pulse and choking coughs. Killing him would mean an end to the suffering of entire star systems.

_You're right_. His voice sounded much closer, just behind her although his body still hadn't moved. She could feel heat spread across her back as though he were standing flush against her, whispering in her ear,  _A wise man once told me that striking an opponent down in anger makes them haunt you._

Rey knew he spoke of Luke Skywalker, of Crait. That didn't mean she wished to take the advice of a dead Jedi Master—not when she could disrupt the imbalance of power between the Resistance and the First Order by taking one life.

"The war. ." she began, unsure why tears coated her voice or when she'd begun to shake with fear instead of loathing.

_Will go on even if he dies,_  Ben finished gently.  _You know that._

"I can't stop it," Rey confessed, speaking of the darkness still flowing through her. "It's like it has control of me."

The comforting heat shifted from her back to skim up her arm and rest against her raised hand. It pressed down, as if threading his fingers through hers and helping her release her hold.  _You showed me there was still light in the corners of my heart_ , Ben stated.  _Now it's my turn_.

Rey closed her eyes, allowing herself to be enveloped by the warmth of the light he projected through their bond. She'd been overcome by the violence of the dark side, basking in the white-hot energy; this was the soft breath of the Jakku sunrise returning heat to the freezing desert nights: rejuvenating, freeing.

She threw Hux back, putting as much distance between herself and temptation as possible. He hit the opposite wall before slumping to the ground, unconscious and unmoving.

Ben's presence had disappeared in her mind. Rey crossed over to him, kneeling at his side. The energies of the fallen soldiers still lingered in the room, giving Rey what she needed to replenish herself as she healed his new injuries. The light spreading from her fingertips carried a gray undertone instead of its typical white coloring.

He stirred beneath her hands, groaning as he regained all of his faculties. "You're getting better at this than I anticipated."

"Maybe I could teach you after this is all over," Rey returned, smiling to see him upright and alert.

"I'd rather abstain from any new afflictions for a little while," Ben said, standing with her help. He still needed to lean against her to walk steadily.

Together they hobbled to the sliding doors, eager to leave the carnage and the painful memories the torture chamber contained. From the map Finn had drawn, Rey knew they weren't far from a hangar full of escape pods.

Rey smiled again. "I can live with that."


End file.
